Of Wounds and Cuddles
by robinthethird
Summary: Dick has the pleasure of caring for a sickened Tim. With the power of cuddles. Nightwing/Red Robin.
1. Chapter One

_Tim watched from the building across the street as GCPD arrested one of the newest (and stupidest) mob bosses to grace his fair city. He rolled his eyes and prepared his grappling gun. These idiots never understood that they wouldn't get away with any crime in Gotham, especially when it came to kidnapping little girls from school yards. That was just low. Even for Gotham. Tim aimed the gun toward the west and his private apartment. He needed to rest up before-_

_"Replacement..."_

_Tim lowered his grappling gun and turned slowly to face none other than the Red Hood, his hands in the air. Not surprising since this dump was what he considered his territory. "Jason. Can I help you?"_

_"You're in my space, brat." Jason aimed his gun at Tim's heart and cocked it. _

_Tim nodded slowly. "Yes, I'm well aware. One of my cases brought me here, I finished it, and now I'm leaving." _

_"No you're not. Not yet." Jason stepped closer to his target, backing him up to the very edge of the roof. "Not without a punishment."_

_"Seeing you is punishment enough." Tim's eyes widened behind his cowl, hardly believe the words that just came out of his traitor mouth. This was his fourth or fifth night without sleep and this is what he had to show for it._

_Jason didn't move, which could most likely be taken as a very bad sign. Then he pulled a jagged knife out of nowhere, and pressed the flat of it to Tim's mouth. "I should cut out your tongue but I won't. Maybe I should just kill you now..."_

_Tim clenched his jaw shut as Jason put pressure on the blade and managed to keep his balance. This was not working out very well at all, was it? The Red Hood wasn't even supposed to be in town this week, yet here he was. Perhaps he should find new informants?_

_"Heh...I get a better idea..." There was smugness in Jason's voice as he lowered his knife to Tim's groin. "Or would you rather I cut out your tongue?"_

_"How about neither?" _

_"Oh, no, replacement, it doesn't work that way."_

_Tim shoved Jason away from himself at the same time Jason sliced through the air around Tim's waist. Tim felt a sharp pain in his thigh as he twisted to the right and shot his grapple to the west and toward home. This time he took a ridiculously zig zagging route in the air and on the ground to make sure he had left Jason behind._

_When Tim entered and locked his apartment, he peeled away his costume, and tossed it into the clothes basket then changed into a big shirt he may or may not have taken from Dick three weeks ago and clean boxers. By this time, he was more than ready for bed, and flopped into it. He could dig out the med-kit tomorrow..._

Tim blinked his eyes open and yawned, stretching an arm out with a cat like purr. He sat up and looked around the semi darkness of his bedroom. Something had disturbed his dreams and woke him. It was a small sound seemingly within the room itself but there was no one here but Tim. This was his private apartment that he was pretty sure even Bruce didn't know about. He only came here after pulling a few all nighters in a row and desperately needed sleep.

It was the only place he could guarantee a full, relaxing rest. Seclusion was its own form of spa treatment for Tim. There it was again. It was a small shuffling sound outside his door. An all too familiar sound to Tim. He sighed, shucking off his deep burgundy sheets and padded to the door to whip it open. Scowling seemed to be Tim's default expression, especially when it came to Dick Grayson.

"What are you doing here?" he snapped and rubbed the sleep out of pretty blue eyes.

"Timmy! I wasn't sure if I should wake you," Dick smiled his brilliant smile down upon Tim, rubbing the back of his head in a nervous gesture. Then he noticed Tim's hastily wrapped right thigh just below the line of his grey boxers, the bandage stained with old and new blood. "No one's seen you for a week and Bruce sent me over to check up on you..."

So Bruce did know about his secret nest. Tim sighed again, turned, and walked back to his bed. "I'm fine." he ground out as he slipped back into the sheets. "I don't need you to check up on me."

Dick entered the efficiently furnished bedroom and noticed that this particular room had more character than any other room Tim had called his own. "Timmy... How long have you had that wound?" He sat down on the edge of the bed near Tim's feet.

"Not too long." Tim mumbled into his pillow. He was so tired and he wanted Dick to go away so he could just sleep forever.

Now it was Dick's turn to sigh. He leaned over Tim and felt his forehead. "Did you know you have a fever?" he asked is a soft voice and Tim shook his head. Dick pressed his lips together and pushed the blankets back from Tim's legs then peeled away the sticky bandage. Tim didn't acknowledge the fact that Dick had to rip the bandage away from the wound itself.

It was a deep cut right in the muscle of Tim's inner thigh. How he had walked without feeling the pain amazed Dick. Dick got up and went to the bathroom to fetch the med-kit he knew would be there then returned to his position on the bed. He set to cleaning the dried blood from around the cut and applied an antiseptic. That at least produced a hiss of pain from Tim.

"You need to take better care of yourself, Timmy." Dick sounded more than slightly worried as he chided his baby brother and wrapped his thigh with fresh bandages.

Dick couldn't be sure if Tim was asleep again or not but he had to take the fever reducing pills from the med-kit. He shook Tim's shoulder getting another scowl and mumbled insult. "Just take the medicine and you can sleep. I promise." He helped Tim into more of a sitting position, fetched a paper cup of tap water from the bathroom, and watched Tim closely as he swallowed both pills. Only after he was sure they were gone would he allow Tim to lay down once more. When he woke up, they would have a real talk. For now... Dick snuggled up behind Tim for a well-deserved nap and cuddle.

Tim was up around seven in the next morning and feeling every bruise and wound he had collected two days before. He was accustomed to occasionally waking up with Dick also in his bed or the other way around. But since this was his private apartment, he was slightly annoyed by it. Tim slipped out of the covers and tested his weight on his injured leg. He could make it to the bathroom if he took it easy and then he could have a proper shower.

Tim eased himself off the mattress, limped slowly to the bathroom, and shut the door. He stripped out of his clothes and turned the water on, waiting for the correct temperature. He took this time to remove the bandage Dick had obviously put on. It was a neat job and Tim could appreciate the fact that Dick cared enough to do it.

The sound of running water woke Dick. He looked around the room, forgetting where he was for a moment, before he remembered this was Tim's bedroom. Tim's incredibly neat, orderly, and clean bedroom. Everything had its place and there was not one speck of dust that Dick could find. Clearly, Tim had a lot of time on his hands.

Dick's stomach rumbled and he decided to that the liberty of making breakfast for himself and Tim. The kitchen was tiny and stocked with food that Alfred would buy. Dick smiled, shaking his head and settled on eggs, bacon, and toast with coffee.

Tim finished his much wanted shower quickly and toweled himself dry thoroughly. He wrapped the towel around his waist and peeked into the bedroom before entering. He cleaned the aching cut on his thigh and wrapped a fresh bandage around it then got dressed in his only pair of sweat pants, socks, and a shirt he may or may not have borrowed the last time he was at Dick's place. He emerged from the bedroom and was greeted with the smell of breakfast which made his tummy rumble.

"Timmy!" Dick beamed and grabbed his baby brother up in a careful hug. "How's the leg?"

Tim relaxed in the hug, resting his head against Dick's chest. "It's fine..."

After a while Dick let go of Tim and guided him to a chair then set a plate of food in front of him. "Eat. Then you can tell me how you got that..." He sat down to his own breakfast, content to let Tim eat in silence. He ate quickly, washed the dishes, and put them away where he found them then sat back down across from Tim to wait for him to finish.

Tim ate more than half of his breakfast, which was a big accomplishment these days. Dick waited a while for Tim to speak then it became clear he wasn't going to make the first move. "Well?" Dick asked, raising an eyebrow. "How did you get it?"

Tim heaved a sigh before answering. "It was a compliment...from Jason." He said it like it didn't matter and wasn't a big deal at all.

Dick blinked once then reached across the table to take Tim's hand. "You fought with Jason? Tim... I know you know he hates your guts with a passion." That was Dick's way of saying that Jason wanted to kill Tim for replacing him as Robin.

"Yes, Dick, I know this very well. It...was an accident." Tim sighed again. "He surprised me while I was finishing my last case. Don't worry. I can handle myself."

"Clearly." Dick nodded as though agreeing. "You handle yourself so well, you let yourself suffer for a week, and act like you don't want or _need_ any help when you do. Mmhmm. You do a great job handling yourself, Tim. I should tell Bruce what you've been up to."

Tim blushed a pretty pink blush of shame and looked down at their hands. "I'm sorry, Dick, okay? You don't have to tell Bruce... I promise I'll be more careful."

Dick leaned forward and tapped Tim's nose lightly for his full attention, speaking sternly. "You be extra careful, stay ten feet away from Jason, and call me if you see him _and_ if you need help."

"Fine. I'll be extra careful, stay away from Jason-"

"_Ten feet_ away from Jason."

"- ten feet away from Jason, and call you if I need help."

"Do I detect a hint of sarcasm, Timmy?"

"Those are my terms. Take it or leave it, Grayson."

Dick laughed and nodded. "I'll take it."

The T.V. was tuned to Animal Planet with a show about dog behavior when Tim woke up laying on his plush couch, head in Dick's lap. Dick seemed to be quite interested in how to train dogs that just wouldn't behave no matter what the master did. Tim didn't remember falling asleep on the couch and that just proved that Dick and Bruce had every right to check up on him now and then. He yawned and stretched then winced at the feeling of damaged muscles stretching in his thigh.

"Hey there, sleepy head." Dick said softly with a blindingly charming smile, patting Tim's shoulder. "You fell asleep after breakfast and I thought I would stick around for a bit longer."

Tim nodded. "'preciate it." He sat himself up from Dick's lap, stood, and walked slowly to the bathroom to tend to urgent business, leaving the door open a crack. As soon as he finished and washed his hands, Tim sat on the edge of the tub, unwrapped the thigh bandage and frowned as the wound reopened, bleeding once more. Figures he would need stitches. Damn Jason and his "compliments".

Sighing, Tim pressed the hand towel to the wound and nudged the door open further with his foot. "Dick, would you bring me the med-kit please?" he called just loud enough for Dick to hear.

Soon enough, Dick was there with the kit in hand. Tim supposed he had dubbed himself Tim's nurse as he sat on the floor and took over without being asked. Dick took the hand towel away, thorough but gently cleaned out the cut, and starting stitching it closed with tiny, evenly spaced stitches just as Alfred had taught him (and every Robin after.) Tim, the world's best patient, sat still and didn't complain about it.

"There. Good as new, Timmy." Dick stood and ruffled Tim's hair then washed his hands.

The hair ruffling Tim would complain about on any other day, but today it didn't matter. "Are you going to stay for dinner too?" He asked, voice neutral like he didn't care either way.

Dick turned that wonderful smiled on his baby brother once more. "Of course. Well... that is if you want me to..?" His smiled didn't waver even though he wasn't exactly sure if Tim was asking him to stay or telling him to leave.

Tim shrugged and arranged his clothes back into perfect order. "I don't mind." He walked back to his living room, Dick following, and they took their places on the couch. "Also why are you watching a dog behavior show? You don't have a dog."

Dick laughed sheepishly, grabbed the remote, and flipped through the channels to the news. "Just looking for tips on how to help Damian be more accepting to working with Bruce. You know how that is. His way or the highway." Dick shook his head, his expression far off as he recalled his time as Robin.

"That makes some sense," Tim admitted, speaking with a dry tone. "But learning how to train a dog won't help Damian. Nothing can help Damian."

"Come on, Tim, that's not true. Never mind. It doesn't really matter. Bruce will figure out how to win him over eventually." Dick dropped the subject, seeing as he would get nowhere with it.

They watched the news in silence, both starting to nod off after their late night and early morning. Tim managed to fall back asleep within five minutes of the end of the conversation, leaning on Dick's shoulder. Dick glanced at him every now and then, noting how peaceful and worry free he was in sleep. He wondered what a guy like Tim dreamt about and if his nightmares were as bad as Dick's on a good night. They both suffered about the same tragedies early in their lives and Tim's were still half fresh.

Dick brushed Tim's bangs off his face, tucking them behind his ear. Watching Tim sleep was making him sleepy but his thoughts kept him awake. Ever since Tim became Red Robin, Dick hardly heard a sentence from him. This was the most time they spent together in two years. That they never saw each other anymore made Dick quite sad. Perhaps he should move back to Gotham again and-

Dick's thoughts were interrupted when Tim moaned softly in his sleep, a small smile on his face. Maybe he wouldn't move back to Gotham because Bludhaven still had need of him, but he could make it a point of visiting more often and not just when Bruce need his help with something. He should be paying more attention to his family. Dick nodded his own affirmation and smoothed out Tim's hair.

Tim had really soft hair.


	2. Chapter Two

Dick was still here. It had been three days and he was still here. Tim hadn't asked him to leave or even implied he wanted him to leave. He just ate the food Dick made for him and didn't complain about when Dick removed the stitches in his thigh. Now he watched Tim nibble his bottom lip while typing up the report from his latest mission. Tim was always thinking but he never really said what about and Dick never really asked and now Dick was thinking. He really wanted to know what reason, aside from the obvious, that Tim had let Jason get so close.

"You're awful quiet..."

Dick focused on Tim rather than through him and smiled sheepishly. "I was thinking."

"What about?"

It amazed Dick that Tim could keep up such a steady rhythm of typing and never mess up even when he was having a conversation. But then again, Tim spent more time at a computer than Dick ever wanted too. Let him and Babs see to that since they were so good at it. "About a lot of things."

"What kind of things?"

Dick's smile widened and he put a hand on Tim's knee. "The kind of things that vigilantes do...with their enemies..?"

Tim glanced up at Dick with narrowed eyes, never failing in his quick typing. "Who's enemies exactly...Dick?"

"I guess I'd have to say yours, Tim."

Now the steady typing faltered and stopped all together. Tim closed his laptop and set it on the coffee table out of harm's way. "Well, I know you're just _dying_ to ask, so ask."

"Fine, fine." Dick heaved a sigh then looked Tim in the eyes. "How did Jason get so close, close enough to cut you through your suit? Tell me that."

Tim stood up and paced around the living room with a barely there limp. He would have to do better than that when he went out on patrol again. There could be no weakness. "All right. I took a case in Jason's 'territory' and he didn't appreciate it." Tim shrugged and walked into the kitchen with an effectively disguised limp.

"Tim..." Dick followed and moved around in front of his baby brother then put his hands on Tim's shoulders. "I _know_ you're not telling me everything. Don't make me drag Bruce into this. You know I will. What else happened?"

It was difficult to the annoyance out of his expression, but Tim just reminded himself that Dick was worried and always reacted this way. "That's it. I was in his personal bubble, he didn't like, he picked a fight, and I left."

Was it possible for Dick to look any more worried right now? Tim rolled his eyes and huffed. Great. Now he was acting like Damian. "I'm _sorry_, okay? I promised remember? I always keep my promises."

Dick's shoulders sagged a little and he wrapped Tim up in hug one step below crushing bones. "You did promise," Dick said as he let go. "I trust you."

Tim smiled. "I guess I should thank you for checking up on me..."

"Any time, Timmy." Dick rubbed the back of his head and glanced at the door. "Well, I should be going. I want to visit the Manor again before I head back to Bludhaven..."

He was slouching and that was something Tim just didn't do, especially on patrol. It was raining tonight as it had the night before last and the one before that and so on as it does in Gotham. It rained the night Dick went back to Bludhaven, speaking Tim's feelings for him, even though Dick probably already knew them. Tim had taken shelter under one of the many giant gargoyles that decorated Wayne Tower. He was five blocks from his apartment. Less than if he used the grapple gun. Or thirty seconds away from a room reserved for him in the Tower itself.

Tim slouched even more.

He had spent two nights out in the rain beating the crap out of ever minor offender he could find. Now it was taking its toll on him. Dick had warned him to take it easy for the next week or so. _Play on your computer and write your reports. Watch a movie. Just...relax._ Then he smiled that carefree smile and walked out the door.

Tim had never really planned on relaxing. He couldn't do that when there was always work to be done. So he had taken it upon himself to stop the small time crime in an effort to relax. Maybe it was an effort to stress himself out and forget to take the medicine Dick left behind and get even sicker in the rain. Tim sighed at the thought.

Now he really should go home and take those pills or soak in a hot bath. That was a pleasing thought and motivation enough to get up and move. Tim took his time going back to the apartment. It took a little over five minutes even with using the grapple gun. There was the threat of a headache coming on and Tim wished to avoid it if he could. He entered his apartment and secured every lock he possessed.

Next, he stripped off his suit and hid it in its proper place in the secret compartment in the closet. Then he moved to the bathroom closet, picked a clean towel, set it on the counter, and turned on the water. He sat on the tub edge, a hand in the water, testing the temperature as the tub filled up. Tim sought out the medicine he was sure Dick had left on his nightstand.

After he had found them, Tim read the bottle carefully, and noted the drowsy effect. Of course. Never trust Dick to buy medicine. Tim rolled his eyes and set the medicine aside and returned to his bath. The water was the perfect temperature. Not to hot and to cold. Simply perfect. When the water had turned luke warm, Tim dragged his pruney body out of the tub, and dried himself off with the waiting towel.

Tim dressed in an oversized shirt and boxers then took another look at the medicine. He could appreciate the drowsy effect now and understood why Dick would buy something like this for him. Always going on about how Tim needed more sleep and blah blah blah. Tim heard it so much he would hear it _in_ his sleep.

Tim popped two pills and crawled into bed. After a few minutes of suffering the annoyance of sniffling every two seconds, Tim crawled back out of bed to retrieve a box of tissues, and crawled back in his nest of sheets. Perhaps following the simple suggestion to relax wasn't so bad. Perhaps he should do this more often. Find the time to put work and the mission aside to take care of himself.

He did decide that he hated Gotham's rain.

Tim woke up with an inability to breathe through his nose and pouted. He wouldn't admit to regretting not listening to Dick's suggestions, even if they were practical. Tim groaned rubbed his face. It was going to be a long day... When Tim woke up a second time with drool covering his pillow three hours later, he cursed himself a fool, and searched around for his cell phone.

There were nine texts from Dick inquiring about his health and three missed phone calls; one from the manor and two from Dick. Didn't anyone understand privacy? Tim heaved a put upon and dialed the manor's number.

"Wayne Manor."

"Hi, Alfred."

"Master Timothy. I trust you're staying out of the rain?"

Tim had to smiled. Leave it to Alfred to know what he was up to. "I am now, yes. How is everything other there?"

"Everything is fine, sir. I had phoned earlier to see if you had made previous plans for dinner."

"Nothing I know of..." Tim rolled over on his side and reached for his tissues. "What's for dinner?"

"Chicken soup with a side of Benadryl. Master Dick has informed me of your shenanigans the previous week." There was more than a hint of disapproval in Alfred's tone.

"Right... When should I be there?" Tim would just have to deal with this. There was no way around an invitation from Alfred.

"I'll send a car shortly. Please dress warmly, Master Timothy."

Tim hung up after a brief good bye and made note to beat the crap out of Dick the next time he saw him. But then again...Dick hadn't promised not to tell. At least he could work in the Cave. Then he beat the crap out of Dick.


	3. Chapter Three

This was their first mission together in a very long time if you could even call it that. Batman had told them where Poison Ivy would be and that she had developed a new plant. What he had left out? The fact that this plant was a new species of vines with thousands upon thousands of mini thorns each filled with one of her many concoctions. Thankfully she liked to brag about her work.

Unfortunately for Tim, he was her hostage in civilian clothes no less. What better way to get back at Wayne Enterprises for spoiling mother earth than to threaten the life of a son? One wrong move from Tim and the vines wrapped loosely around his limbs would stab him with a sample of every poison Ivy has ever made. She was quite proud and rather fond of this particular plant.

Tim was not so fond of it. In fact, Tim hated it. He wouldn't have been around for Ivy to nab if Dick hadn't decided they needed some bonding time and then left him alone at the restaurant. Something about an important phone call from some random woman he probably wouldn't see again. That's what irked Tim the most.

He was put aside for a one night stand to end up like this.

He couldn't even talk Ivy out of this. She was much to intent upon explaining to Tim everything that his father's company had done to Gotham's dirt and dirty rivers. Every single thing Wayne Enterprises had done wrong (in her eyes) since the start of the company, since before it was even Bruce's company to manage. Things that maybe should be taken up with the board from how it was sounding.

Not that Tim was really listening. He was more interested in thinking about what he was going to do to Dick after he got out of this. Of course, Batman will be coming for him in the next ten minutes more or less. Hopefully less. He could hang out that long. Right?

"...am I boring you?"

"Hmm?" Tim looked up at Ivy's beautiful face. "I'm sorry?"

"You should be! I'm telling you everything that needs fixed with your corrupt company!"

"But it isn't mi-"

Ivy held up a hand to stop Tim's weak protest. "It belongs in your family. You have the influence to stop them from poisoning the earth!" Ivy's voice rose with the passion of her words.

Tim had to agree with the things she had said. There was a better way to dispose of the waste from the plants around Gotham, even if it would cost the company more than they were willing to pay. Not that it came out of their pockets anyway.

An unaccustomed whine made its way out of Tim's mouth when a vine wrapped itself around his neck. It occurred to Tim to be thankful he stayed seated when Ivy had burst into the restaurant. "Ivy, you do know that Batman is most likely on his way?"

Ivy chuckled and patted Tim's check. "No, he's not. He's to busy playing with the horrible crocodile in the sewers. I doubt he even knows. No, Timothy, I'm waiting for Bruce to show his cowardly face."

"Good luck with that."

Ivy's eyes widened and a frown turned down the corners of her full mouth. "Nightwing. How...unexpected."

"Always expect the handsomely unexpected."

Tim rolled his eyes and groaned softly. He would prefer to skip the small talk and get to the weed killer. The thorn laden vines were irritating to have on one's person. Tim jumped slightly at a vine touching his face.

Then he swore profusely under his breath when a thorn pricked his arm. There was no way of knowing what any thorn had inside of it. This particular one seemed to be trying to shut down his lungs. Well that's not good...

Tim looked for Nightwing, panicking only a little as he tried to keep breath steadily and move as little as possible. Nightwing was busy fending off snapping flowers that spit poison. No help there. It was getting increasingly difficult to keep breathing by the second and he jerked involuntarily, getting poked with a few more thorns in the process.

"Shit, shit...shit..!"

Then Nightwing was in front of him, pulling the vines off Tim as gently as possible. Tim's lips were turning blue and he looked a Nightwing with confusion. What was he saying? Who is he anyway? Where are they? What's going on?

It was all over the news.

_"...new, Timothy Drake-Wayne, adopted son of billionaire Bruce Wayne, who had recently been attacked by Poison Ivy just a week ago over claims against Wayne Enterprises, is recovering slowly. Our own Dark Knight had produced several antidotes administered to Wayne four days ago by the Wayne's personal doctor, Dr. Leslie Tompkins. She reports that he is now free of all the deadly toxins but several others nonlethal still remain in..."_

Dick sighed as he stood in the doorway to Tim's room in the manor. Three days he had been breathing through a tube until the Batman could manufacture antidotes for several of the more deadly poisons Tim was infected with. What a horrible sight it was when Tim woke up and started panicking. Alfred had to sedate him while Bruce held him down. Now he lay quietly, to all appearances sleeping soundly, but who knew what could be going on in his pretty head?

Dick allowed himself to move forward into the room and sit in the chair by Tim's bedside. This wasn't his first visit and it would not be the last. He had promised Tim he would come by every day to see how he was doing and hope for the best. Tim deserved the best. Dick sighed again and slouched in the chair. "I'm sorry, Tim... I didn't need to take that call. She isn't as important to me as you are. I...I should have been there for you."

Dick scooted the chair closer to the bed and picked up Tim's hand, running his thumb over the knuckles. "Alfred said you should be waking up soon. I wanted to be here for that so I could apologize."

Tim was so still, he could be mistaken for dead. That worried Dick almost as much as Tim waking up and yelling at him. He deserved it though. It had been under his insistence that he and Tim take that mission even if it was just an excuse to have lunch. He wanted them to spend more time together and make sure Tim was doing all right and not running himself into the ground again. Yet somehow Dick enjoyed taking care of his little brother. He just didn't want him to get hurt.

"It is my fault, you know. I wanted to...relive the old days…I guess." Dick watched Tim's sleeping face and willed him to open his eyes. "Bruce was pretty much pissed. He said I hadn't botched a mission that bad since I was twelve. Those...those weren't his words though. His were more colorful like something Jason would appreciate I'm sure."

Dick was never one to keep still for very long. Sitting here and just waiting was not something he had excelled at, even with Batman for a teacher. He needed something to do while he waited for Tim to reboot. Dick smiled to himself at his own bad joke. He held up Tim's hand and placed it against his own then marveled at how slim Tim's fingers were, how pale his skin was, and how utterly feminine his hands were.

Dick threaded their fingers together and took this time to really _look _at Tim. Tim had always been on the short side and probably always would be. Dick found that endearing. His little brother, small of stature and a little bit too thin, but he could still throw a good punch. "Why Bruce let you fight crime is beyond me but I'm kind of glad he did. We need you out there..."

_And I need you here_.

The muscles in Tim's hand spasmed then he squeezed Dick's hand in what could only be described as a classic death grip and whimpered like an animal in pain. Whatever was going on in Tim's head was decidedly not good. A drug induced nightmare. Dick knew a thing or two about being on the receiving end of those and what he appreciated people doing for him when he had one.

Dick abandoned his chair in favor of climbing into the bed beside Tim and gathered him up in his arms, holding him gently yet firmly. "Little brother, I need you to wake up."

Tim wiggled and writhed in Dick's arms, not exactly trying to escape but close enough to it that Dick held him a little tighter and a little closer. "Wake up, Timmy..!"

Now Tim was actively trying to break free of Dick's hold and making things difficult with his flailing arms. He even managed to get a shot in on Dick's nose but nothing to serious, only irritating. "Tim! Wake up!"

Tim gasped and froze while his eyes darted about the room, taking in every detail, processing the information, and telling himself that this was his designated room in Wayne Manor. The voice he had been hearing belonged to one Dick Grayson. Therefore the person practically breaking his ribs must be Dick Grayson. Tim relaxed against Dick after he reached his conclusion, determined there were no threats nearby, and felt Dick relax his hold.

"You're up." A question and a statement.

"Yes."

"Aaanndd...do you remember what happened?" A tentative question with a undertone of imminant apology ahead.

"Yes."

"Do you want to talk about it?" A hesitant question laced with apology.

"No."

"Do you want anything else? Are you hungry? Bathroom?" A more welcome territory of question with a hint of need to please that could easily be annoying.

"Bathroom."

"Do you-"

"No." They weren't not even going to go down that road. Tim was more than capable of going to the bathroom by himself. Even if his legs felt like jelly. He would do this himself. If room would stop spinning.

"Are you sure?" There was that need to please again with a dash of apology.

"Just...help me to the bathroom...please."

"Okay." Dick threw back the blanket, scooped Tim up, and went straight to his bathroom. He deposited Tim on his feet beside the toilet and-

"Get out."

-before he could offer any other services was promptly ordered out with one of the pinkest blushes he had ever seen. Dick smiled and shut the door behind him. He waited patiently for Tim to tinkle and wash his hands before exited the bathroom on his own two feet.

"Don't even ask, Dick...just don't..." Tim looked tired for all that he slept for about a week. He crawled back into his bed and curled on his side, facing Dick. "Could you...who was she?"

Dick looked like he had just been hit across the head with a metal baseball bat and properly ashamed of leaving Tim alone in the same restaurant in civilian clothes with Pamela Isley sitting only one table away ready to strike.

"It obviously wasn't Barbara or Kori. Was she worth it? Hmm?"

Dick sat back in the chair and slumped forward. "Tim. I had no right to take the call. I know that. I could have done that another time. She was just...an old fling. I'm really, really, _really_ sorry, Tim, and I don't expect you to forgive me right now or any time in the near future."

"Good." Tim heaved a sigh and rubbed at his eyes. "How long has it been?"

Dick smiled a small smile at the change of subject. "It's only been a week. Thankfully most of the poisons were things Bruce already had the antidotes for-"

"But Master Bruce spent a full night and day examining blood samples and making new antidotes for the more deadly toxins in your system, Master Tim. How are you feeling?" Alfred set a tray of soup and tea on the nightstand.

"Tired and hungry. Thanks, Alfred."

"You're quite welcome, sir. I'll be around again to check up on you both." Alfred nodded his head and left just as quickly as he had come.

"Do you wanna or should I?" Dick gestured at the soup and smiled a more normal smile.


	4. Chapter Four

Dick found Tim in the library and to his surprise, Damian was there as well. Tim was curled up on the love seat, wearing a bat-symbol t-shirt, and reading aloud from a book while Damian, head hidden in a hoodie, seemed to be listening in the chair opposite. This struck Dick as being very odd but if they weren't killing each other that was considered a plus.

Though he would love to know the story behind it, Dick had been given instructions by Alfred to locate and inform his brothers that dinner was indeed ready. Smiling, Dick padded up to the love seat and sat on the arm. Dinner could wait from Tim to finish the current passage. Besides, he liked to listen to Tim read too.

"`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore - Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn, It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore - Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore? 'Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'1"

"What do you want, Grayson?" Damian had resurfaced from his hood and was giving Dick a look just below a glare. "You're interrupting."

Tim closed the book, marking his place with a finger. Dick looked between the two and wondered what it was exactly that he was missing. "Dinner is ready. It's chicken pot pie."

"Sounds good. We'll be down then." Tim kept his eyes on his book and voice was just neutral. Dick could understand why Tim was being cold, and had even said he had expected this, but how long could Tim hold a grudge? He must be taking lessons from Babs. She always knew how to get under his skin.

Dick nodded and walked back to the library doorway. "Don't be long. Bruce wants to have a family dinner."

Damian's scoff was distinct as Dick trudged back down the hall to the dining room. This sucked. Whatever had possessed him to take the call and abandoned the mission? He had no one to blame but himself. Yet, the call did give him the time to change into costume and play hero. Was that so bad?

Dick took his place at the right of the head of the table. Otherwise known as Bruce. He broke an Alfred rule and rested his elbows on the table with his head in his hands. Bruce was also breaking an Alfred rule by reading the newspaper at the table. "How long to you plan to keep Tim on house arrest?"

"Until his blood tests come back completely clear." Bruce turned a page, to all appearances completely engrossed in the news.

Before Dick could ask more questions, Tim and Damian filed in, and took their respective seats. Tim to Bruce's left and Damian across from Bruce. No one said anything as Alfred came through the adjoining kitchen door to serve dinner right on que. "Master Bruce, no papers at the table."

Bruce had the smallest of smiles as he refolded the paper and placed it in Alfred's waiting hand. After everyone was served chicken pot pie, a buttered dinner roll, and a glass of milk for those under age and a glass of wine for those who wanted it. Dick wanted it. Everyone ate in silence for the most part aside from occasional appeals for the salt.

It was one of the most uncomfortable dinners Dick had every experienced since Babs' accident. Later on in the evening, Tim was back in the library, and this time he was alone. He didn't even glance up when Dick plopped down beside him. He did, however, glance down when Dick wiggled into his lap, laying on his stomach and effectively using his weight to keep Tim in place.

"Read to me."

This time Dick had gotten Tim to smile.

Tim yawned and rubbed his dark circled eyes. He was absolutely exhausted though he hadn't done much since breakfast and it was just about eleven o'clock. There was no conceivable reason for Bruce to drug his food when he was following the rules of house arrest. Today was supposed to be the last day of this horror.

Unless this was Dick's fault and lately everything involving Tim was. Tim glared at the legs of the desk in the study. Somehow this had to be Dick's fault and, oh, will he pay but for now the cold shoulder would work. Hiding in Bruce's study with Bruce was the best place for that plan. But if only he could just sleep!

He'd gone without sleep for three days or more plenty of times before, but he was always busy with something. Now he had nothing to do. No cases he was allowed to work on. Tim wasn't even allowed to work out or train. Absolutely nothing he could do. Nothing but avoid Dick and trail after Bruce like a lost puppy. Bruce didn't seem to mind either as long as Tim was quiet, which he always was.

Tim closed his eyes and sighed. Brooding wasn't going to get him anywhere. He should find a book to read until he could fall asleep. Something very old and very dry would do nicely. There we a great many books he hadn't had a chance to read in the library. Tim pushed himself off the study's comfy couch and padded to the door.

"Where are you going?" Bruce didn't even look up from the papers he was working on.

Tim glanced over his shoulder. "Library."

"Get some tea from Alfred. See if that helps."

"Mmhmm..."

Tim opened the door and skulked down the hall toward the kitchen. Alfred was there already preparing for lunch. It seemed to be some form of soup or another, salad, and finger sandwiches. Tim slide on to a stool and leaned over the bar with another sigh. "Alfred, could you make some Chamomile tea, please?"

"Of course, sir. Shall I bring it to the study?" Alfred paused in his lunch preparations and moved the cabinet just for tea.

"Library. I want to find something dry to read as well." Tim mumbled into his arm.

"Very good, sir."

Tim smiled and left the kitchen in favor of the library. He moved to the bookcases containing the driest texts he knew of; instruction manuals. He scanned the spines for titles and chose one on airplanes. He knew the basics but knowing more couldn't hurt. He met Alfred at the door and accepted his tea with another smile then headed back to the study.

Back in his seat on the couch, Tim sipped his tea in between paragraphs explaining how engines worked. Already knowing this made it all the more boring. In his constant state of tiredness, he wasn't even sure if he was becoming more tired or if it was just the same level. Tim was now harboring a great dislike of Poison at the moment.

About an hour into the manual, the tea was gone and so was Bruce. Tim hadn't realized that he'd left. Airplane structure was a lot more interesting that he had previously thought. The door opened again and Bruce returned with a tray laden with lunch goodies for two. Tim glanced up at him then back down the book. Eating was out of the question right now. He couldn't even finish his breakfast.

"You can eat the soup at least," Bruce murmured as he set the bowl on the stand beside his third child as if he could hear Tim's thoughts. "Just the soup."

Tim huffed but the corners of his mouth lifted in a small smile. A compromise was fine with him. The soup had turned luke warm by the time he was done with it. The manual had almost all of his full attention but unfortunately it was a slim volume. Sooner or later he would have to find something else. Might as well do that now. Tim picked up his empty bowl and headed for the door again.

"Library?" Bruce asked around a mouthful of finger sandwich.

"Mmhmm."

Tim went back to the kitchen first to deposit his bowl in the sink then turned back around to the library. When he entered, Damian was there, sitting in the middle of the most plush couch, and paging threw Edgar Allen Poe. Tim couldn't help the smile on his face as he sat next to the current Robin. He tensed and scowled at the feeling of hand wrapping around his waist and tugging him close to the warm body behind him.

"Damian and I would appreciate it if you read to us." Dick murmured in his ear causing the slightest blush on Tim's cheeks.

"Fine. But I'm still mad at you."

"That's all right." Dick guided him to the couch and sat him down beside Damian. Tim took the book of poetry and leafed through to find wear he left off.


	5. Chapter Five

_Note: Will come back to this when I like it again to revise._

Tim had fallen asleep on the couch and woke with cramped neck muscles. He grimaced and tenderly massaged his neck then sighed contently when strong fingers took over the job for him. All the attention he was receiving over the past few days was nice and effectively wearing down on his built up anger. Tim had forgiven Dick days ago and was simply curious at how long he would continue this behavior. He groaned as all the knots were loosened and all the tension left his body.

Tim sat up and smiled his thanks at Dick. He lifted his hands to fix his hair and stared at the bat-symbol drawn in green pen on his left wrist. He knew for a fact that he hadn't done that. "That would be Damian's handiwork. It not bad but you have some- here." Dick licked his thumb and scrubbed at Tim's cheek much to his obvious disgust. "There. All clean."

Tim wiped his cheek with his shirt sleeve and raised an eyebrow at Dick. "Was that absolutely necessary?"

"What? You don't want to be clean?" Dick managed to look offended and amused at the same time.

Tim wrinkled his nose. "I do but your germs aren't clean."

Tim squeaked as he was squished up against Dick's warm body and a multitude of kisses were placed up on his cheeks, nose, chin, and forehead. "Now you're covered in my germs." Dick was very proud of himself. His persistence was paying off.

"You're disgusting." Tim was blushing a lovely shade of red and looking anywhere but at Dick's face. It was well known to him that any move he might make to remove those germs would result in more germ giving. It was a Dick thing and no rule of 'Don't touch me' would stop that any time soon.

"Oh, but I love you so much, Timmy..!" Dick squeezed Tim again with more urgency than one could hear in his words. This was probably what he had been wanted to do since he had to rescue Tim from Poison Ivy. His guilt must have been killing him and Tim was making it worse by ignoring it just to be angry.

"I know you do." Tim shifted into a more comfortable position sitting in Dick's lap. "I was being selfish and I'm sorry."

Dick smiled and tucked Tim as close as he could get. "You don't have to be sorry. I deserved it."

"_Ahem_."

Tim cringed in Dick's hold and looked across the library at the doorway. Damian stood there in his Robin suit with an impressive, ice melting glare plastered on his face. "Grayson. You're supposed to patrol with me. Drake. Father demands your presence in the Cave. Now."

Tim climbed out of Dick's lap and ran his fingers through his hair, trying for some sort of order. He walked up to Damian and presented him with a view of his bat-symbol pen tattoo. "I heard this was your doing?"

Damian clenched his fists and glared at Tim's wrist. "So what?"

"It's very nice. Thank you." Tim smiled at his little brother and ruffled his hair on his way out.

Dick smothered a laugh and settled for grinning at Damian. "Little red in the face there, D."

"I am not! Besides, it is obvious to everyone, not just myself, that you have claimed Drake for yourself."

Dick snorted and rolled his eyes. "Only you would say it that way."

"Then it's true?"

"What do you think, Damian?" Dick stood and walked out of the door, heading for his room.

Damian frowned and followed closely. "I think it's true. Why else would you try so hard to win his affection after almost getting him killed? There is no other plausible reason aside from brotherly love but considering the way you look at him every time you're in the same room that is highly unlikely."

"All right. What are your thoughts on Tim in the same senario?" Dick began stripping out of his clothing, tossing them to the floor without regard, and pulled on his Nightwing suit.

Damian thought over Dick's question carefully. "Because, and only because, Drake tolerates your incessant need to touch someone would suggest that he shares your feelings."

"And your conclusion?"

"Your both disgusting individuals." Damian replied with the most serious tone and Dick's laughter startled him.

"What about you, D?"

Damian narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms. "What about me?"

"Damian said you wanted to see me?" Tim asked, standing beside the computer chair, very much interested in what the computer displayed.

"Yes. I want to conduct one more blue sample test to clear you for active duty by tomorrow." Bruce was, as ever, short, quick, and to the point.

Tim was correct in thinking the the screen contained the results on the previous blood test with the last anomaly in his system. Since he had managed to sleep, either by the powers of Alfred made tea, or simply because the poison left his system, he should be back to normal. "All right. Sounds good to me."

Bruce stood from his chair and beckoned Tim to follow him to his lab equipment. Once there, he put together a new needle and procured a sample of Tim's blood. After this, he placed a simple band-aid on Tim's arm. "You can go."

Tim smiled then started on his way back up the stairs. Short, quick, and to the point indeed. At the top of the stairs, Tim met Dick and Damian on their way down. He grabbed Dick's arm to detain him while Damian continued on.

"I want to see you when you come back. We're not done talking."

Dick grinned and leaned in close to Tim, crowding him against the cave wall. "Oh, you bet we're not." He tipped Tim's chin up and stole a kiss before resuming his trek down the stairs.

Tim tried to frown at Dick's devious actions but couldn't help the smile that curved his lips. Dick could be incredibly overwhelming at times. Tim hummed to himself as he made his way to his room's bathroom. After a shower to rid himself of germs, perhaps he could engage Alfred in a game or two of chess.

THE END

Or is it?


End file.
